Los Santos Damnation
by Mr. Random444
Summary: Four years have passed since "The Big One", and Michael's life seems to be going right for once, until one horror-filled February night. Now Michael must give his all to protect all that he holds dear as the undead, armed gangs, and martial law take over LS.
1. Undead Rising

**21:25, February 16, 2017. Los Santos, San Andreas Island, California, USA.**

Michael had gone to the Vanilla Unicorn with Franklin, a guy's night out, though he'd left out the exact location when telling Amanda, for two obvious reasons.

Franklin had left some time before, and Michael was thinking of doing the same, after a private dance of course. That was also something Amanda didn't need to know about.

"You like what you see Mr. De Santa?" Sapphire stated.

"I'm not about that life anymore, a new man you could say."

There was commotion in the main area, most likely a drunk about to be tossed out.

"You've said that for four years Mr. De Santa, yet you keep coming here."

"I look, I admire, I touch, but I don't take home anymore."

The topless stripper gave a small laugh. "I'm sure I could change your mind, eventually."

"I'd like to see that."

Someone tumbled into the room, and Michael was about to yell at them, when they sunk their teeth into the woman's neck, blood squirting everywhere as she screamed.

Michael instinctively pushed both off of him and shot up, now realizing the commotion in the club had grown volumes.

The man, a filth ridden hobo by the looks of it, was still biting the struggling stripper.

Michael took out the Glock he always kept under his grey suit jacket, and fired three rounds into the hobo, not wanting to take any chances. But, to his horror-filled surprise, all that did was get the hobo to release the dying woman and turn to face Michael.

He took one look at the man's glazed eyes and blood-filled mouth, and put a quick round between the man's eyes.

Sapphire convulsed on the floor, her taking her final, blood-filled breaths, and Michael walked out of the private rooms, and into the main area.

It was chaos, as the patrons seemed to be being eaten by one another.

Rather than fight, Michael rushed outside, passing one of the bouncers, who was in the process of being torn apart, and hopped in his tailgater, which still bore the marks of when Jimmy had taken it.

As he tore through downtown, Lester called him.

"Lester what the fuck is going on here?"

He passed a group of LSPD officers firing wildly into a crowd.

"I can't say for certain, but if I had to put a finger on it, I'd say the zombie apocalypse." The man's voice came through in short breaths.

Michael wanted to roll his eyes, but he didn't have a counter argument, it wasn't that crazy considering what he'd just seen.

"Alright, I'm going to get Amanda and the kids, and head for the hills. I'd suggest you do the same."

"I wouldn't if I were you, the military, LSSD and CHP have every road out of LS blocked off, my guess is they'll shoot anyone who gets close. If I were you, I'd lock the gates and stay put, at least then you'd have a defensible position."

"Fuck, ok, I'll see if I can come get you first." Michael hung up the phone. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! This can't be happening."

As his car made a right, a grey SUV slammed into it, sending him spiraling into a light pole.

"Come the fuck on!"

Michael got out of the car, aimed down the ARs CCO, and fired a round into an approaching zombies head, dropping it like a felled tree.

"Who'd have fucking thought this shit would happen to me?"

He walked around to the back of his car and opened the trunk, which he was glad hadn't received any real damage, grabbing an AR15 he always kept there, since trouble always seemed to find him, before heading off on foot.

' _Lester'll have to wait, my family comes first right now_.'

Vinewood wasn't much better than downtown, while the LSPD had been bolstered by soldiers from Zancudo who wore gasmasks, they didn't seem to be faring any better.

Soldiers and cops fired wildly at anything that moved, while Michael took cover behind whatever object he could find, and moved when the air wasn't full of lead, or a zombie got too close. It was this slow process that forced him into the allies.

He put two rounds in the back of an officers head, not willing to take the risk if he was infected, and felt a presence behind him. He spun around, but his rifle was batted down.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Mikey. It's me, Packie."

"Shit, I thought you moved back east after the big one."

"Thought I'd stay here awhile, take in the sun. Apparently, I took too long." The Irishman joked. "Think we'll last a lot longer if we head to the roof, there's a ladder right there."

"Not a chance, I gotta get home to my family."

Packie brought his AK up and fired at something behind Michael, who in turn brought his own rifle up to do the same.

"Fine, but first sign of this clearing up, and we make for my home. Got lots of food and ammo there, plus it's walled."

Michael stayed on the ground as his former crewmember started to climb, shooting two more in the head, before turning to climb as more of the things poured into the alley.

"Fuckin-a, this shit's unreal." Packie stated as Michael reached the top. "Fuck, man. I mean, this shit's only supposed to happen in shitty movies."

Michael agreed with him, but also found the statement ironic considering what both had done for their livings.

They watched the nightmare unfold from the rooftop. Mobs of undead rushed through the streets, and occasionally into buildings, tearing into anyone they caught up with, while some people desperately tried to fight them off with firearms or whatever object was close by. Some were successful, most were not.

 **AN: This may borrow characters from zombie games, most notably State of Decay**. **You'd also be surprised at how many times I've re-written this.**


	2. Missed Visit

**20:05, February 16, 2017. Los Santos.**

Several Humvees were staged on the sides of Marlowe Drive, completely blacked out, and occupied only by a single driver and gunner each, while fifteen soldiers moved in on the Lake Vinewood Estates in almost complete darkness. The soldiers wore an assortment of OCP uniforms with matching gear, the only constant being the newer M50 pro-masks and the monocular AN/PSQ-20 night vision goggles.

All also held suppressed M4A1s modified to each individual's liking.

One of those men, who most knew simply as Captain Jennings, lead the group, silently motioning for each designated group to go about pre-planned instructions.

They came down the access road, the estate sign on their right, Jennings and four other soldiers would take the first compound to their right as they entered the estates from the North.

They hugged the wall, until they got to the main gate, as they had been informed the gate to the footpath was controlled from a security room in the house, and would be locked.

"Smith, get the gate! Krummel, cover him!" He ordered, and the two soldiers complied.

The area should be free of the infected, but the people who lived in these parts often hired private security.

His world was seen bathed in green light by his left eye, and semi-cloaked in darkness through his right as Smith reached between the metal bars, and undid the gate's two latches, and quietly pushed one gate open just enough for the others to get through.

He and the other soldier silently moved forward as Krummel covered them, and Smith held the gate. He spotted a guard in a black polo on the balcony and quickly took aim, firing a single shot that struck the man in the head. He spotted another to their right, and quickly put him down as well.

By the time he was moving towards the house, Krummel and Smith had already cleared the detached garage, no one seemed to have been there.

They then proceeded to clear the perimeter, clearing out the other outlying building, and established that the perimeter wall had recently been raised all around, eliminating the problem spots they'd spotted on the clearly outdated plans they'd been given, before heading into the house through the attached garage.

As they entered the house, Captain Jennings used the IR laser he could see with his left eye to aim, while his right eye ready to look down his EXPS3 holographic sight, as the house's lights, even though they were dimmed, made it difficult to utilize nods properly.

There was another guard, this one with a pistol tucked under his jacket. A single 5.56 to the back of the head put him down.

He could hear other suppressed shots as they cleared through the bottom floor of the mansion.

He entered the last room on the ground floor, and fired three rounds into its sleeping occupants, one to the head for each.

They regrouped near the stairs.

"Krummel! Penner! Clear the basement!" he whispered. "Smith, upstairs with me."

They had knowledge of the security on staff, so far he was counting 7 of 7 eliminated, but he was still treating any remaining individuals as armed hostiles.

The two soldiers split as they cleared the rooms.

In the first room he entered, he nearly ran into a woman, maybe forty, wearing a night gown.

He let his rifle drop in its sling, aggressively clamped his left hand over her mouth, and shoved a knife under her ribs with his right hand with enough force to lift her a few inches off the ground.

Repositioning his left hand behind her head, he eased the corpse to the ground, before removing the knife, bringing his rifle back up, and continuing on.

One by one each team reported their tasks complete.

As he headed outside with his soldiers, and noted that the other teams were approaching their compound.

He got on his radio. "Gypsy Wagons, this is Jennings, Donkey Punch is secure. I repeat, Donkey Punch is secure. Over."

He turned to Smith and Krummel. "Get those gates open, I want those vics in here ASAP."

As the two moved to complete their assigned task, he turned to Penner. "Clear the building again with the others, then get a detail and secure all bodies for transport."

* * *

Sergeant First Class George Knight bounced around in the back of a Humvee moving through Los Santos, he was a part of one of the squads under Captain Jennings' command, as he made sure his M4A1 was in working order one last time.

The vehicle's assigned driver was Corporal Ian Gordon, a Ranger, while Sergeant Edgar Mercer, also a Ranger, manned the fifty. The Delta Force operator knew them both very well, they'd crossed paths on more than one prior mission, all classified. It was the only reason he knew either of them were Rangers, as they'd been shoved on chinooks and dropped here too quickly for even him to get a basic knowledge of who he was operating with.

The man sitting in front of him was Airforce, specifically a Combat Control Team (CCT) member. The black and white CCT patch on the front of his multicam plate carrier gave that much away. He was going to take a guess that he was a Senior Airman, or something like that.

To his right sat the only female he'd seen fly over with them, though, again, he hadn't had time to take them all in, and they'd been flown there on multiple helicopters. She wore an OCP combat shirt, as opposed to the combat blouse Knight wore, and a shemagh around her neck. What stuck out the most about her was the Ranger Scroll that sat under Old Glory, _that_ was a rare sight.

He had an idea of what her job had been before all this, and it somewhat made sense she was here, somewhat.

Why exactly where they here, instead of with the rest of their unit clearing out and securing their base of operations for the unknown duration? They had a time sensitive mission.

The Humvee screeched to a halt, in front of them an overpass that went over a highway that separated Rockford Hills from Little Seoul, to their right was a high-rise, and their left a movie studio. Gunfire and sirens could be heard in the distance, but the street was relatively clear.

' _It's already happening_.'

"Mercer, keep the .50 pointed down the overpass. Gordon, dismount and pull security. You two with me." SFC Knight ordered.

The four almost noiselessly exited the vehicle, which was saying something considering the heavy armored doors, and Knight and the two others headed for the highrise, Weazel Plaza.

As he held the lobby door open, he was able to take note of any nametapes or markings they had on their uniforms. The soldier was a Sergeant Reitter, while the airman's name was Santana.

Though the building still had power, and therefor lights, Knight kept his NVG over the left side of his pro-mask.

The two started to head out of the lobby, and secure the rest of the ground floor.

"No time for that." He stated as he called the elevator.

He leveled his rifle, left hand on the vertical foregrip, while he waited to see which elevator would come for them. His hybrid-sight's G33 magnifier was flipped down, so that he was only looking through the holographic sight.

The middle elevator doors opened, displaying an empty box.

The three quickly filed in and Knight hit the button for the 32nd floor.

There was no small talk on the way up, and obviously no stops.

When the doors opened, all three already had their weapons up, Santana went left, Reitter left, and Knight center. The lighting on this floor was dimmed, but no targets presented themselves, and the trio quickly moved towards their target apartment, again pressed for time.

Turning the corner, Knight was confronted by a white clad Gruppe Sechs security guard.

Before Knight could fire, the guard, who had been lowering his own weapon, was struck from the side by an infected individual, who proceeded to chomp down on the man's neck.

Knight fired one round into the infected, before moving on.

"Sergeant, the witness?" Santana asked, clearly meaning the security guard breathing through a new throat hole.

"Don't bother, he'll bleed out soon enough." Knight stated, as he spotted the target apartment.

Upon entering the apartment, Reitter cleared a room to their immediate left, while Santana continued further in with Knight before stopping to cover a pair of stair that led down, while Knight cleared the rest of the open floor.

"Clear in here!" He reported.

"Clear here Sergeant!" Reitter stated, before adding. "I think you might want a look at this."

He moved over to Santana. "Stay put, we'll clear the bottom floor, before coming back up."

The two traveled down the stairs, turning right at the landing, before going down another flight.

Ahead, there was a bedroom with a large closet or some other room to its left, while the right held some sort of outlet.

Knight turned right, and crouched, while Santana covered the bedroom. He found himself facing a window with a small bench in front of it.

' _An odd choice_.'

He turned and tapped Santana on the shoulder, and the two went back to standing.

Knight moved into the bedroom and cleared the right side, while Santana went left.

Santana returned to him. "Closet and bathroom are clear, Sergeant."

Knight nodded. "Then let's head back upstairs."

When they came back up, Reitter was still standing outside the room she'd cleared.

"What'd you find Sergeant?" Knight asked.

Rather than tell him, she opened the door, and waved them through.

The first thing he noticed when he stepped inside were several computer monitors, as well as electronic equipment on a desk, and several maps of the city, the US, and the world. Then his eyes panned around the room, a saw several shelves of ammunition, and not just sidearm, but rifle ammo.

"Who the fuck are we after, Sergeant?" Reitter's voice held concern.

"I have no idea, check the equipment, maybe there's something we can use."

"Already tried, whoever they are, they fried everything, before taking, what I'm assuming was, 450 rounds of 5.56 and 225 of 9mm."

Santana whistled, and Knight swore.

Reitter circled something on the desk with her finger. "Looks like there's a drive missing though."

"Captain Jennings, this is Templar Lead. We have a situation. Over."

"Send it! Over." Came the reply.

"Target has fled, we don't know how long ago, took ammunition and a drive of some sort. Might have headed to ground. Over."

"Unlikely. Templar Lead, RTB. We'll remedy this once we have more information, out."

Knight just gestured for them to head back to the Humvee. The mission was a bust.

However, as he opened the apartment door to leave, he was confronted by the reanimated corpse of the security guard they'd seen minutes ago.

His rifle was instantly leveled and sending a round into the man's head.

"That's a problem."

When they returned to the Humvee, all hell had already broken loose, the .50 was wildly firing down the road, and several bodies were in the street.

"Mount up, we're clearing out."

When the vehicle was underway, he got back on the radio with Captain Jennings. "Captain Jennings, this is Templar Lead. We have a situation here, I've just had a run-in with a reanimated civie whose infection vector was a bite. Over."

"Templar Lead, are you certain he wasn't infected prior?"

"I'm not sure, but I highly doubt it."

There was a pause. "This complicates things, I'll send the update ASAP. Radio when you're a minute out. Over."

Knight slumped back as the .50 thundered and the Humvee sped through Los Santos. That complicated things exponentially, and he doubted the others in his vehicle understood just how bad things could get.

As they approached Out Post Donkey Punch, he'd kill the man who named it, two soldiers pulled the gates open, allowing the vehicle entry, before shutting and securing it behind them.


	3. Hangover From Hell

**10:15, February 17, 2017. Los Santos.**

Franklin awoke with a headache.

"Man, what happened last night? Feels like a freight train hit me."

He could vaguely remember, drinks, strippers, Lamar and some prostitute throwing fists, lots of cops, and, if he was remembering correctly, stumbling over to Lacey Jonas' house and somehow ending up in her bedroom.

Checking his camera roll, he definitely confirmed that he had spent the end of the night with Lacey.

"Shit, I guess suckin on all those fries helped out after all, Lacey." He looked around the room for a bit. "But, how the fuck I end up back here anyway?"

He got up, and poured a bowl of cereal, he still wasn't used to living alone.

Normally, had he woken this late, Chop would be barking non-stop, to the dismay of his neighbors, but he'd had a run-in with a mountain lion in 2015, didn't end well. Lamar had taken the news pretty badly.

Thinking of Lamar, Franklin reached for his phone and quickly dialed his number. He had to make sure that tall idiot had made it home, and not wondered into Vagos territory again.

It rang for a few seconds before someone picked up, and the sound of gunfire filled Franklin's ears.

"Ay yo homie, where you at? What the fuck's going on?"

The tone in Lamar's voice as he responded seemed almost annoyed. "Mother fucka, are you stupid? I'm with the rest of the homies in Chamberlain Hills, hole up in the apartments. Shit's crazy here, mother fucka. Where you at? Don't sound like you in it yet."

"I'm at my crib. What the fuck you dumb ass mother fuckers done now?"

"Oh sorry Mr. Vinewood Hills, have the struggles of the lower class not reached your height yet? We in the fight for our lives here nigga, the dead own these streets now, not the Families, or the Ballas, or Vagos, or LSPD, the dead. Dee, ee, ay, dee. Dead."

"The fuck you mean _the dead own these streets_? Some new gang rise up while I was out."

"New gang? Mother fucka no, the dead. As in corpses shambling and running along, and eating any mother fucka who too slow. LSPD's collapsed and the military ain't helpin nobody out, mother fucka. Shit's whack."

"Ay, Lamar, get yo goofy ass off that phone and help out. You hungover bitch."

"Ay, homie, I gotta go. Steer clear of here if you can, and take care of yo bitch ass."

The call ended a second later.

Franklin's mind was racing. ' _The fuck is happening, some zombie apocalypse bullshit?_ '

Franklin rushed downstairs, entering the room in which he kept weapons and ammo, a nice little hideaway that Lester had informed him off, should the cops ever come knocking.

The walls had many weapons on them, though he knew he wouldn't be able to carry all of them, so he wondered over to his most used piece of equipment, an AK he'd added an angled grip, small scope, and flashlight too, though Lester was always quick to point out that it was actually a Norinco Type 56-2, a cheap Chinese knock-off of the real deal in his own words. Franklin didn't give a shit about that, it looked like and AK, it fired like an AK, it was dependable as an AK, so as far as he cared, it _was_ an AK. Apparently, the gangs on San Andreas agreed with him on that as well, because it was used by most of them too.

He also took a Glock pistol and holstered it under his grey sweater.

"Fucking zombies! Is this shit gonna be like one of those _shoot for the head_ games, or those dumb _shoot till they drop_ ones?" He stopped for a second. "Man what the fuck am I saying? Hope it's a dumb-ass Lamar drug trip."

As if to make the situation worse, a helicopter buzzed overhead as.

"Citizens of Los Santos, this is the California Highway Patrol, under the authority of Governor Cranley this city is being placed under a 24-hour curfew in an attempt to preserve the wellbeing of this state's citizens."

"Man, fuck that!" Franklin stated as he walked outside. "I got people I need to check on."

* * *

Franklin headed up the street, to Lacey's house. Sure, she wasn't a priority as far as he was concerned, but he knew she was home, and her house was close to his. He crept along, hoping the rifle in hand would keep the officers in the sky, though they were further into the hills, from shooting at him.

Still, he felt like at any second something would happen, either coming from the sky, or the eerily silent houses to his right, which were the reason he kept a little further into the road than he would usually be.

There was a break in the houses before Lacey's, where only a chain-link fence stood between him and whatever was happening. It allowed him to take a look at the city, he couldn't much, but he could see the multitude of black and white LSPD helicopters in the air, of which he counted at least ten, and a shit tone of abandoned vehicles, and what looked vaguely like people.

When he made it to Lacey's, he noticed the door was open.

AK leveled, he entered the house. "Hello, anyone there? Lacey, it's me, dude from last night. Listen some weird shit's going down in the city and I just wanted to check on you."

He turned his AK's lamp on, as the lights were out and he'd rather not look for the switch.

He heard movement further into the house, and started moving in its direction, doing a quick once over as he entered each new room, light both illuminating and restricting his view.

As he came to the room the noises were emanating from, he realized he recognized it. _Her bedroom_.

He pushed his way in, expecting to find a waking and hungover Lacey. Instead he found her corpse, eyes glazed over, face frozen in horror, throat ripped out, and missing her left forearm.

Fighting the urge to hurl, Franklin swept his rifle's light towards the source of the noises he'd been hearing. In the far corner sat a man, camera around his neck, and Lacey's forearm held in his hands as he sunk his teeth into what little flesh he could find.

Noticing the bright light, the man turned around to investigate its source, dropping the forearm.

As it did, Franklin could see its eyes, which seemed to glow red. Upon catching sight of him, it tried to lung forward, but was stopped as he put a burst through its grey head, sending a spray of gore over the walls.

Not even bothering to check and see if there were more in the house, Franklin ran back outside as quickly as he could, to the other side of the road, and relieved his stomach of the cereal he'd just barely eaten, before quickly turning around, and aiming his weapon at the door to Lacey's.

When nothing came after him, he started back down the road, eyes quickly darting from one place to another. There was no doubt in his mind that there truly was, a zombie invasion.

Now he was able to hear the distant gunfire in the city proper, which his ears must have been tuning out before.

When he reached his house, he quickly ran inside, grabbed a backpack, and filled it with as many full AK and Glock mags as he could, before heading back outside, and hoping into his metallic midnight purple and metallic green charger, which he'd modified for street racing in years ago, and sped off down the road.

"Man, this shit's crazy, mother fucker was eating Lacey Jonas, and not in a good way." He spoke to himself.

He narrowly avoided hitting a sedan that had been abandoned in the middle of the road on a blind turn.


End file.
